Amour

I want to write about "Amour", the latest film by Michael Haneke, and I can't. You just have to watch it. My words on the movie are futile. What I can write about is the last time I saw my grandmother.  I lay in bed beside her. By this time, she was sick and mostly bedridden but still living at home. We watched television together. My mom sat in a chair nearby. My grandmother wore purple silk pajamas that hung off her emaciated frame. When she sat up to go to the bathroom, the silk top draped down in the back, exposing the notches of her vertebrae, they looked like small stones under her skin. After that visit I could not go back. How do you watch someone slowly disappear? How do you cope with it? And I think of her in that room by herself. Her husband cared for her, my mother visited almost every day but what about the hours when no one was present? What did she think and feel? I will never know.